


Small Talk

by gardnerhill



Series: Women and Whiskey [4]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Torchwood
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, Crossover, F/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-06-01 00:38:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15131264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: Superheroes really need a social outlet.





	Small Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NovaNara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaNara/gifts).



> For the 2018 July Watson's Woes Promptfest prompt #1, **One Thousand and One Nights: Have one character tell a story to another.**

“And that’s why the Second Podding of Its Horrific Majesty of Deneb 8 is surnamed ‘Jack,’” Harkness concluded.

Sally Donovan smirked. “That’s one up on me. I helped deliver a human baby in a cab when I was a beat cop. That was a bit of an eldritch horror too.”

Jack leaned forward (Sally tilted her head back and moaned). “Everyone lived, though. Right?”

“Mum and baby just – ooh – _just fine_.” That last, breathed out in double meaning.

Jack grinned and kept doing what he was doing. “You’re in the right place then. UNIT’s for people who call it a dull week if they only save the world once.”

“So I’m learning.” Sally emitted another groan as Jack’s hands found a sensitive spot in her back.

“Heard about that sewer-slug thing you dealt with your first week, Lieutenant. Martha knows how to pick ‘em.”

“She – ah! – sends her love.”

Harkness grinned at her again, which Donovan could just see in the mirror near the bed. That grin alone had been worth getting this guy horizontal – and finding out just how many centuries of sexual technique he’d amassed had been icing on the cake (he’d made her orgasm twice before either had removed an article of clothing). He was still buried to the ballocks in her from behind, moving in tiny increments to seek out each and every nerve ending inside her. “I missed seeing her tonight.”

“She’s spending some _time_ with a mutual friend.” Nothing more needed saying to identify the friend. “Tell me another one, Harkness.”

“Your turn, Donovan. By now you must have your own set of stories you can’t tell at regular parties.”

Sally made a rude noise. “Hell. I’ve got a bushel of stories from my Scotland Yard days – and they all seem to start ‘Once upon a time there was a tall white bloke with a posh coat who was way too happy about murders’.”

“Ex-cuse me,” Jack said with exaggerated pique. “I have never been happy about murder.”

Sally laughed and moaned and laughed some more. “This one’s a civilian, Captain. Broke the needle on my creep radar. Thinks rules don’t apply to him. His brother’s in the government, that’s probably why.”

“And being white and a bloke probably doesn’t hurt, either,” Jack added. “I should know.”

“Thank you.” Sally rolled them both over. “Besides, I’ve got better stories than that, now. My first day at UNIT there was a blowfish driving a sports car…”

***

He stayed for breakfast, but had to leave immediately afterward. “Good luck, UNIT,” he said, kissing her goodbye.

She grinned. “We definitely need to hold more of these mixers, Torchwood.”


End file.
